


Marry Me

by m0usielous1e



Category: The Walking Dead & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-26
Updated: 2018-02-26
Packaged: 2019-03-24 03:06:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13802064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/m0usielous1e/pseuds/m0usielous1e
Summary: Paul had never thought about getting married...until the day he decided he wanted to. Now to get Daryl onboard with the idea.





	Marry Me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DarylsBabyGirl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarylsBabyGirl/gifts).



_Forever can never be long enough for me,_  
Feel like I’ve had long enough with you.  
Forget the world now, we won’t let them see,  
But still there’s one thing left to do.” “Marry Me”, Train

 

It had been absurdly easy to get Daryl out of the house. In retrospect, perhaps too easy.

The “treasure hunt” theme had been Maggie’s idea, an offhand remark that had stuck in Paul’s head long after she had laughed it off as ridiculous. Paul had already spent a fortnight obsessing over how best to propose so he was admittedly not thinking clearly but it was just perfect. He had to do it.

Tara had suggested the objects for the treasure hunt. Little mementos hidden throughout the house that was meant to be a journey from their first meeting to the present. There was no reason that a toy Jeep, replica of the ancient beast he had rolled into Daryl’s garage the day they had officially met, should have been so hard to find.

Between gathering the items and setting up, Paul had barely seen Daryl in nearly a month and he only realized that morning when he asked Daryl to clear out for...reasons. 

But it was Valentine’s Day. Though Daryl had long established that he did not care about that “commercialized crap, who needs a day to show the person they loved how much they cared with overpriced junk anyway”, Paul had not missed it a single year. For the past five years, Daryl had come home to some new gift, from a bouquet of flowers that had him blushing for as long as the blooms lasted, one of which he had pressed into a book; to a surprise road trip to California for a bike convention. Paul had actually thought that Daryl might have proposed on the way back from that last trip, not that he was hoping for it, not that he had thought he would want to get married at the time, but they had taken a detour to Las Vegas and Daryl’s eyes had lingered on every chapel they passed.

But Paul had also once told Daryl that he was not the marrying kind, that he was barely even the long-term relationship kind. Daryl, who had never forgotten a thing Paul told him, even reminding him of things he’d said from time to time, but never in an argument, definitely never forgot that. They left Las Vegas for home unmarried, and life continued as normal after that.

Paul would like to think that he decided to propose because of some kind of epiphany. Some moment where he woke up and realized that he did not want to spend another day without the other man. It wasn’t. Instead, he had been wandering through DC on one of the days where he went out by himself to recharge and relax, passed a jewellery store and had to go back to take a second look at a skull ring that he knew would look perfect on Daryl’s hand.

He had not even hesitated. He walked into the shop, told the clerk which one he wanted, and walked right out again. Then he took it home and instead of giving it to the other man at once, as he usually did with gifts, decided that he wanted a special occasion. Then that night they watched a rom-com together—Daryl was riveted, though he scoffed a lot—and Paul knew exactly the occasion.

Daryl did not wear jewellery, not even a watch most days because work in the garage would destroy everything, but Paul guessed the other man would wear it when he could. Paul was not into wedding rings himself, hell he had not been into marriage as an institution until he decided he wanted it, but he wanted Daryl to have this. Maybe they could work out tattoos or something later. Paul did not have tattoos but for Daryl he could make an exception.

Proposing on Valentine’s Day had actually taken some thought. A lot of people did, Paul knew, judging from the number of times it happened at whatever restaurant he managed to drag Daryl to on the night in question. It was a little cliché, but it was also the best time. And Paul had even decided to do it at home just in case the public setting was too overwhelming for Daryl. After five hours of set up, all that was left really was for Daryl to get home. Which he should have, three hours ago.

Paul was not the panicky type. Daryl often got held back at the garage because someone came in at the last minute and he could not say no. He was a very good mechanic but he also had a soft heart so that Paul had been forced to appoint Rosita as unofficial watch-woman.

He called the shop. Of course no one picked up. Even their voicemail was full, and knowing Abraham, probably had been for months.

Paul checked the time again. It was now three hours and ten minutes after the latest Daryl would plausibly get home.

Calling and texting Daryl had surprisingly produced no results. The phone had been switched off, which Daryl sometimes did when he went to work and he usually forgot to switch it back on. Paul had given up on trying to get Daryl to see the significance of his being able to reach him a long time ago, at least he remembered to take it with him. Since there were also no frantic calls from their friends, especially Denise at the local hospital, and nothing on the news, Paul had allowed himself to believe that everything was alright. His heart was still racing.

Calling Maggie and Glenn or Rick and Michonne would probably be just as fruitless, and even if he did get through, it would probably launch an unnecessary search party. The unfortunate downside of being friends with cops, especially Sheriff Rick Grimes, was that sometimes they could overreact. And when it came to Daryl Dixon? If Paul so much as hinted that something may have happened to him, Rick would somehow bring down the state police, the FBI and Homeland Security to find the man he considered his brother.

Another hour passed, tense, quiet. Paul spent the time alternating glances at the clock and the door. But there was no familiar rumble of Daryl’s bike, no heavy footsteps in the hall, nor the jingle of Daryl’s many keys. Paul thought he would wring his fingers into knots if he could.

Four hours after the latest possible time that Daryl would come home, Paul’s phone finally played that familiar tune.

“Daryl, baby, oh my god, where have you been?” Paul began in a rush, unable to keep the relief from his voice.

“Damn, you do love this man don’t you?” said Tara on the other end.

Paul blinked, stunned, and then demanded, “What are you doing with Daryl’s phone? Is he alright? Did he forget it somewhere? Did someone bring it into the station?”

Paul was already on his feet and looking for his keys, calculating how long it would take to get across town in the traffic.

“Calm down, lover boy, he’s fine. We’re at Carol’s.”

“What?” asked Paul, brought to an abrupt halt by words that did not make sense.

“Carol’s. Yeah, she’s open but not for Ezekiel but that’s another complaint. Just come and get your man before I hit him. I think something stupid has happened and like, I don’t want to go through this tonight. Denise is going to be making this up to me for months, who takes an extra shift on Valentine’s Day...”

She hung up before he could question her further, still grumbling. Paul gave up the search for his keys, grabbed his jacket, then the ring box after a moment’s consideration, and ran out of the house. Carol’s diner was three blocks away and the night was clear, if a little chilly.

The diner was packed and busy. Tara waved him over to the kitchen, where he was immediately greeted by Carol.

“Are you breaking up with him?” the grey-haired Iron Lady demanded, arms folded, gaze hard.

“What? No. Where the hell did you get an idea like that?” Paul asked, swallowing a little air to dispel the sheer terror that Carol could induce in others when it came to her family. 

Carol smirked, all of a sudden non-threatening and sweet, and replied, “Well you better make that clear.”

Paul pulled the ring box out of his pocket.

Tara’s eyes went wide, as did Carol’s, the first time that Paul had ever seen such an expression on her face.

“That should do it,” said Carol, voice near whisper. Then she stepped aside. “He’s in the back office helping Sophia with her homework. She hates Valentine’s Day so they’re hate-watching a ‘lovey dovey movie’. Don’t ask.”

 _50 First Dates_ was not exactly Paul’s idea of lovey dovey, though he just wasn’t a fan of Adam Sandler’s oeuvre in general, so he couldn’t really be sure. Both looked up when he opened the door. Paul stared back. Daryl turned back to the TV, the asshole, but Sophia hopped off the couch and said, “Finally. I accept payment in chocolate.”

She pushed past Paul on her way out, then stopped to push him into the room and shut the door. Paul did not think he imagined the sound of something heavy being dragged in front of it too, for good measure.

Daryl was still not looking at him.

Paul exhaled heavily, walked around the couch, sank into it, shifting until he was comfortable, and asked, “Where did you get the idea that I wanted to break up with you? We haven’t been fighting. I know damn well that I have been ignoring the guys hitting on me in the gym, so you can’t think I’ve been cheating. Also, we have that thing with your brother at the end of the month and you know I’ve been looking forward to rubbing it in his face that we’re still together. What the hell, babe?”

Daryl had not looked away from the TV once through this speech but his face had been reddening steadily throughout. Paul rolled his eyes and said, “Or have we all gotten this wrong and this is your way of breaking up with me?”

That got Daryl’s attention. He snapped his gaze onto Paul at last, glaring, but his voice was soft when he said, “No, man. Of course not.”

“So where did you get the idea that I was breaking up with you?” asked Paul.

“We’ve barely seen much of each other for the past month and then Valentine’s Day, a day you never forget despite what I tell you, you tell me to get out?”

Paul stared at Daryl, stunned. He knew that he’d gone into his head a bit with the planning for this proposal…but to the extent that Daryl thought their relationship was over? No. That didn’t make any sense.

“Babe, come on,” said Paul, shifting forward to put his elbow on his knees and meet Daryl’s gaze. “We’ve been together for five years. Do you really think I could just walk away from us like that? That’s crazy. What’s really going on?”

Daryl said nothing. Paul waited. He had just spent the last month of their relationship trying to put together a proposal he had simply never expected himself to make. That was not going to waste without a good reason. 

Daryl reached into his jacket and pulled out an envelope.

For a moment, Paul feared the worst. He and Daryl had decided early on not to keep secrets from each other, but they both had a lot of dark shit buried deep in their pasts. They did not begrudge each other these things, and had been slowly sharing with each other since they met. So this could not be an old thing, but something new. Was Daryl about to tell him that he had some kind of illness?

Paul stared at it, trying to decipher what the letter could possibly contain, then realized how silly that was and picked up the envelope. It hadn’t come from a doctor, or a lawyer, thank goodness, but the real estate agent he had spoken to a few weeks earlier.

“You’re buying a house? When were you planning on telling me? Or was I not supposed to know?” asked Daryl, still not looking at Paul.

Paul scoffed and said, “I only told him I might be interested so he would leave me alone. But…I was also thinking about it. As something we might eventually do together.”

He felt for the ring box in his pocket but did not withdraw it. He had a whole set-up at home but there was a misunderstanding that he needed to clear. It was so absurd, so true to Murphy’s Law that this would happen.

Daryl finally looked over at him, eyes wide, then asked, “You want us to get a house?”

Paul nodded, smiled and replied, “The lease is almost up on the apartment and we need a bigger place. I know you want to get a dog.”

Daryl’s face somehow managed to get redder, but before he could drop his gaze away, Paul decided to go for broke. He slipped off the couch onto one knee and pulled out the ring box, popping it open before the other man.

Daryl froze, gaze locked onto the small velvet box and the white gold skull peering out at him with black diamond eyes. Paul said, “I had a whole thing planned but—”

“No,” said Daryl, standing up. 

Paul stopped, stunned, and nearly forgot how to breathe. Daryl looked as shocked as Paul felt, but when he spoke again, it was with a tiny shy smile.

“No, let’s go home. You planned something and I’m not letting it go to waste. Let’s…I want to see what you did.”

Paul scrambled to his feet and started for the door, grasping hold of Daryl’s hand as he went.

They said nothing to their friends on the way out but no one missed their linked hands. Carol may have been smiling. Daryl had gone straight to the diner after work so his bike was in the parking lot. They rode home together, Paul pressed against Daryl’s back so that he could feel the other man’s slightly elevated heart rate in tune with his own. When they got back to the apartment though, Paul hopped off the bike and went to the stairs, then stopped, turned back to Daryl and said, “Give me five minutes.”

Daryl took off his helmet, shook his hair out and swept it away from his still-red face before replying with a grunt, “Okay.”

Paul took a moment to appreciate, once again, the rugged handsomeness of the man who had his heart, then turned and scurried up the stairs.

Originally he had planned to sit by the window, pretending to ignore Daryl as he searched the house looking for the bike keys that Paul would have hidden and finding mementos of their past five years along the way. Now that Daryl was still in possession of the keys and knew that Paul intended to propose, he decided to do something else. He replaced the last memento, the ticket stubs and autographed photo from the rock concert that Daryl had surprised him with for his birthday with the ring box. Then he dropped onto the sofa before the TV and waited.

Daryl came up the stairs moments later, his footsteps heavy and familiar in the hall. Paul pretended not to the notice the jangle of the keys but he hadn’t locked the door so Daryl just pushed it open.

Paul smiled and said, “Welcome home.”

Daryl actually blushed. Paul squeezed his hands into fists on the armrests to stop himself from going to the other man and kissing him until he forgot his own name.

Oblivious to this, Daryl set his keys on the rack, hung up his jacket, turned and asked, “So, what did you set up?”

“Treasure hunt,” said Paul.

“Seriously?” asked Daryl, eyebrow raised.

“Seriously,” Paul replied, smiling at him. “I was going to have you look for your keys, but since you have those, just pretend you don’t and check the drawer next to the bed.”

Daryl shook his head, but then walked over to Paul and pulled him out of his seat. Paul let him and asked, “What are you doing?”

“I think I need your help,” said Daryl, then he took Paul’s hand, blushing sweetly again, and walked them to the bedroom.

He laughed at the toy Jeep. Rolled his eyes at the packets of ketchup in the napkin from the food truck they went to on their first date. The place had just run out so Daryl had been forced to choke down his dry fries and he was furious and embarrassed but Paul could not believe how damn adorable the man was. He paused at the pine cones from their first camping trip, where they had both shared stories from their pasts. Paul squeezed their linked hands for encouragement.

The memories were lighter after that, most of them. There was the boutonnière from Glenn and Maggie’s wedding. The ring box from Rick and Michonne’s. The picture from the day Paul serviced his car himself, without even Daryl’s supervision. There were photos from various trips. The boarding pass from Daryl’s first plane ride on their third anniversary. Daryl lingered a little at each of them, then brought their linked hands to his lips for a kiss. When they finally got to the ring box though, he kissed Paul full on the mouth. Paul smiled against Daryl’s lips, eyes still closed but his heart was racing wildly now. There was no reason to think that Daryl was going to refuse but Paul was nervous still. Daryl pulled away at last and Paul opened his eyes. Daryl had the box in his hand and was staring at the ring. When he noticed Paul’s gaze, he said, “I’ve never thought about getting married. You said you didn’t care and I…couldn’t see myself as anyone’s husband.”

Paul willed himself to remain calm as he licked his lips and asked, “And now?”

“I told you before that I don’t see myself with anyone but you,” he replied.

Paul breathed out and took hold of Daryl’s hand holding the ring. He bent his head to meet the other man’s eyes and asked, “Does this mean that you will marry me?”

Daryl turned to him, mischief in his gaze, and asked, “What would you do if I say no?”

“Probably die of shame. Or just die, really,” said Paul, pressing his forehead into the crook of Daryl’s neck.

He felt Daryl’s smile, the other man’s stubble rubbing against the top of his head, and he said, “Can’t let that happen then. Yeah, yes Paul, I will marry you.”

Paul smiled and kissed Daryl’s collarbone, relief washing over him to his toes, and then he lifted his head to kiss him properly. It was hot and full of intent and Paul very quickly found himself pressed against the wall, Daryl’s hands worrying at his hips.

“Happy Valentine’s Day,” he said against Daryl’s lips.

Daryl pulled away and said, “I didn’t get you anything.”

“Oh I think you can make it up to me,” said Paul with a grin, and he kissed him again.

**Author's Note:**

> I am so very sorry for this much delayed prompt response but the past few weeks have been simultaneously the worst and the best I’ve had in a while. I hope that this makes up for the delay.


End file.
